In the quiet corners of the mind, there lie tapestries woven from whispers, shadows intertwined with the threads of time. Each stitch a memory, a fleeting thought, left unspoken, yet profoundly known.
The margins of time are often blank, yet they possess space for the doodles of life, those unintended scrawls upon the canvas of existence. Reflection reveals their shape, as shadows reveal forms beneath the light.
Whispering EchoesDo these interwoven shadows speak, or are they just echoes of what could have been? In the intertwining of light and dark, we see the truth hidden in plain sight.